


It's Always the Quiet Ones

by skittles_lee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Like, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, REALLY MINOR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittles_lee/pseuds/skittles_lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles needs some company after a fight with his dad, but he didn't expect it to be Boyd. Or what happened after...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always the Quiet Ones

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't really know how this happened... I was just reading fics from different ships and ended up on this one and this happened. Sorry?
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine, and to be expected.
> 
> I don't own Teen Wolf or it's characters, just kinda having fun with them. Nor am I gaining any profit.
> 
> My first fic, so I'm kinda nervous. Be nice?
> 
> Edited 2/12/2017, cause my fics were a mess as I hadn't edited them before.

Stiles had just had a fight with his dad when he found himself sitting in his jeep outside the rebuilt Hale house. Having noted that there were no cars out front, and figuring no one was there, he debated his options. He could leave and go back home, which he really didn’t want to, continue sitting in his car until someone came back, or use the spare key Derek had given him 2 months ago when the house was completed. 

He was still sitting there five minutes later, wanting comfort, but not wanting to go home, when the front door opened. 

Boyd propped his shoulder up on the doorframe, and just watched. Stiles, his argument with himself seemingly solved, got out of the car and walked towards him. When Stiles stepped up the last step onto the porch, Boyd just raised an eyebrow. 

“I was going to come in eventually.” Boyd raised the other eyebrow to meet the first. 

“Eventually.” Boyd snorted, moving back into the house. 

“Was there someone you were after?” he asked. 

“No,” Stiles replied, rubbing his arms nervously, following him into the kitchen. 

Boyd threw him a curious look as he pulled out the tin of hot chocolate mix, some milk, and a small pot. 

Hearing the silent question, Stiles shrugged, “I didn’t want to be alone, and I’m trying to avoid home.” 

“Why,” Boyd prompted. Moving to sit on a stool at the kitchen island, Stiles paused. Boyd had certainly become more vocal in the past couple months as the pack grew closer. Stiles kind of liked it. But he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. At all. He got enough teasing, thank you very much. 

“I had a fight, with dad.” Stiles received a sympathetic look from Boyd, who went to the pantry and got out Derek’s not-so-secret-anymore stash of Oreos. Everyone knew how close Stiles was to his dad, and how much they meant to each other. The Sheriff had found out about the werewolf secret after the Alpha pack had left a year ago, leaving Boyd and Erica seriously hurt in the middle of the Preserve. It had taken them weeks to heal, which was mildly frightening. And that was only physically. It had taken a long time before Boyd and Erica could talk properly with people without getting ready to run, or flinch at sudden sounds or actions. The pack had really come together, trying to help them. 

“What was the fight about?” Boyd asked. Stiles knew he didn’t have to answer, even if Boyd asked. He contemplated just avoiding it for a moment, but decided against it. Boyd was probably the only one out of the pack besides Scott that he didn’t use words to hide or avoid things. That’s also something that Stiles is absolutely happy to avoid like the plague. 

“College. I got into Berkley, and he really wants me to go.” 

“But?” Boyd asked, placing a steaming mug of hot cocoa in front of Stiles, before reaching into the top cabinet to grab the packet of mini marshmallows. Placing them on the table in front of Stiles, Boyd placed the empty pot into the sink, grabbed his own mug and joined the brunet. 

After a moment of silence, Boyd raised an eyebrow, “He doesn’t want you to stay?”

“No, he thinks it’s too dangerous.” Boyd snorted a little, taking a sip. 

“I know!!” Stiles said, flailing a little, wincing when some of the hot liquid hit his hand. 

“Have you thought of doing a course at Berkley, like criminal justice or forensic psychology or something?”

Stiles frowned. “No. Didn’t cross my mind, to be honest.” 

Boyd looked at Stiles incredulously, “I find that hard to believe.” 

Stiles flushed, though he wasn’t really too sure why, “I’ll look into it.” 

Boyd smiled, pleased that the thread of tension and distress left Stiles’ body and scent. 

“So where is everyone?” Stiles asked, pushing thoughts of college to one side, taking a large gulp of the chocolate drink and stealing an Oreo. 

“Derek’s out for a run, Erica and Isaac are on a date, and you’d know better than I where Scott would be.” 

Stiles’ brow furrowed, thinking, then he grimaced, “I’ve started to tune out whenever Scott is talking about Allison, so they’re probably also on a date.” 

Boyd chuckled, finishing the mug. Standing up, he gestured to Stiles, who handed his over easily, and taking them to the sink. 

“You make really good hot chocolate. I’m going to have to kidnap you and keep you as my hot chocolate making slave.”

Boyd just looked at him, saying “Seriously?” with his face. 

He sat down opposite Stiles again, taking his first Oreo while Stiles shoved his third into his mouth. 

“So what are your plans for college? I’ve heard about everyone’s but yours; Erica’s doing childcare, Scott veterinary science, Allison sports science, Lydia maths at MIT, Jackson law, and Isaac culinary arts. What are you looking into?”

Boyd frowned slightly, watching as he twisted the Oreo apart revealing the white center. “I’m thinking firefighter.” 

Stiles took a moment to imagine Boyd in the firefighter gear, glistening with sweat and saving children and kittens, and coughed at the sudden wave of arousal, praying Boyd couldn’t pick up on it. That prayer seemed to be in vain when Boyd glanced at him, expression unreadable. 

“Are you done?” Boyd asked, gesturing to the cookies. 

“What?” Stiles asked, mind still stuck on a fire fighter Boyd. “Oh! Right, yeah, I’m good.” 

Boyd nodded, taking the packet and putting it back in the pantry, behind the cans of vegetables. Like teenagers wouldn’t think to look there for candy. Amateur. 

“Do you want to stay for a bit? I’m about to watch The Italian Job”. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes, “Original or remake?” 

“Original. The remake sucks.” 

Stiles grinned, “Thank you! Scott says the second one is the best, but he has no appreciation for proper car races. The one in the original is the best ever.” 

“Don’t you have a curfew?” Boyd asked. 

Stiles tilted his head, considering, “No. It’s Friday night, so Dad doesn’t really mind too much, providing I get all my homework done by Sunday night.” 

Boyd nodded, and gestured at the couch for Stiles to sit, while he put the DVD in the player and pressed play. Coming back to the couch, Boyd sat down next to Stiles, not too close, but not too far either. 

Stiles settled into the couch, resolutely not thinking about the line of heat that was Boyd at his side, or the thought of snuggling into it, something he really, really wanted to do.” 

Half way in, he started to nod off, head drifting to the side to land on Boyd’s shoulder. The last thing he was aware of was an arm going around his back and pulling him in. 

When Stiles woke up the next morning, his pillow was moving lightly, causing his head to rise and fall, and there was a line of weight across his back, but he couldn't remember the last time he woke this well rested, or this comfortable. He was also really warm, mostly from the heat below him than the blanket over him. It took about 30 seconds, just drifting in a doze and enjoying that state between awake and asleep, before he froze. Taking stock of where he was, he figured he was on the couch, same as last night. Someone must have placed a blanket over him. He wondered where Boyd was, as the last thing he remembered the other boy was sitting next to him on the couch, allowing Stiles to rest his head on Boyd's shoulder, so he probably fell asleep on – Stiles stopped all motion. Slowly, so slowly, he raised his head, and, yep. That was Boyd. He was using Boyd as a mattress. He must have fallen asleep on Boyd during the movie, and Boyd moved them to lying down. He contemplated moving, but his comfortableness (which was so a word, thank you very much) won out. Gently, he placed his head back on Boyd’s chest, and just enjoyed it. It’s not like he didn’t like Boyd. He did. Probably a little too much. And he was always very aware of his crushes. His one on Lydia had faded a while ago, and he never thought he’d actually get to be this close to Boyd, figuring it was the same situation as with Lydia. So he was planning on enjoying it while he could. 

Some minutes later, Stiles really couldn’t tell how many, he felt Boyd begin to stir. The arm sitting low on his back tightening slightly as he shifted, and breathed deeply in. Boyd’s arm slid along his back until his big hand (He had really big hands - strong, capable hands that Stiles was now going to not think about cause downstairs was starting to Take Notice, capitals necessary) was sitting low on his spine. The hand ran up and down along his spine, and Stiles melted even further into Boyd’s body, if that was even possible. 

“How long have you been awake?” Boyd asked, voice deep from sleep. 

“A bit,” Stiles squeaked, not having thought ahead to being caught at dozing on top of Boyd. 

“Hmm,” Boyd hummed, hand still sweeping up and down Stiles’ now tensed spine. 

Slowly, Stiles felt himself relaxing back onto Boyd’s chest when he didn’t seem to be protesting Stiles’ position. In fact, Boyd’s other hand joined the first, just resting on the small of his back, in the little dip. Stiles felt a shiver of awareness slide through him as he felt Boyd’s slightly calloused hand settle on skin, tucking underneath his shirt. 

He felt Boyd nuzzle into his hair lightly.

A little hesitantly, he asked, “Boyd, what are we doing?” He felt Boyd pull back and stare at the top of his head, but he didn’t lift it from where it was resting on his chest. He didn’t want to see Boyd’s expression. The hand travelling his back was lifted, and tugged his chin up to meet Boyd’s eyes. He kept them down until the very last second. 

He was surprised at the warmth and fondness in Boyd’s gaze. 

“Can’t you figure it out?”

Stiles shook his head mutely. 

“How about if I do this?” Boyd asked, tilting his head. Softly, their lips pressed together. Stiles felt his eyes fall shut, this whole thing surreal. When Boyd pulled back, Stiles’ eyes fluttered open, his cheeks burning lightly. 

“Are you sure?” Stiles stuttered out, gulping a little. Never in his wildest dreams did he think Boyd would want to kiss him like this. He thought he would wait for the crush to fade, like Lydia’s. Although, preferably not holding on for as long as that one did. 

Boyd’s face softened once again into a smile, “Yes,” he said. 

The smile was slow to come, but brilliant, and lit Stiles up entirely. Boyd stared at him, a little stunned at it. Pulling Stiles up his body until they were face to face, Boyd captured his mouth in another kiss, this one going deeper, hotter. The hand on the small of his back tightened, pulling Stiles’ body ever closer at the same time. Boyd placed his other hand in Stiles’ hair, holding him in place as Stiles brought his hands up to cup both sides of Boyd’s face, using his forearms to brace himself.  
Both lost themselves in the kiss, staying like that for who knows how long. It was not until there was a pointed clearing of the throat that they broke apart. Well, to be more accurate, that caused Stiles to startle so much he flailed hard enough to fall off the couch, well, Boyd, onto the floor. Boyd just looked at him for a moment, before looking at Derek standing in the doorway. Stiles was beet red. Boyd’s cheeks looked a little pinker, but it could have been Stiles' imagination. 

“Not that I’m not happy for you two, but I think your dad is starting to worry, Stiles.” Derek threw Stiles’ mobile at him, which he must have left in the kitchen last night. 

Catching it, Stiles checked to see the time was 10 am. He also had 7 missed calls and 30 text messages. 

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted, jumping up. He flailed a little, having gotten caught in the blanket and nearly falling over. Boyd caught and steadied him, and Stiles peaked out at him from under his lashes, blushing again. It took another pointed cough from Derek, but he straightened, only to be tugged back down by Boyd into another quick kiss. Boyd let him go, but Stiles leant down for another quick peck before running out of the house, bright red. 

Reversing the jeep, he chanced one more glance up to the porch to see Boyd in the same position against the doorframe as he was last night. He raised a hand in farewell, which Stiles returned. Once out on the road back home, he raised a hand to his lips. Boyd and he still had a lot to talk about, like what will happen after high school, but he was hopeful. They’ll work it out. And on the car ride home, singing at the top of his lungs to Taylor Swift, he couldn’t stop smiling.


End file.
